


Plant Dad

by hecate_01



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, The Phantom of the Opera (TV 1990)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, they're dating in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecate_01/pseuds/hecate_01
Summary: After running a quick errand, Erik takes Christine home and shows her his pride and joy.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Plant Dad

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: None
> 
> This isn't necessarily a sequel to my Strawberry Blond phic, but if you want to read it as such, that's perfectly okay.

“Do you understand, Christine?” Erik asked as he slowly drove up the gray, asphalt driveway, fumbling with the little black remote he had picked up from the empty cup holder.

“Yeah,” she responded. “If your dad’s home, no problem. If he is, I hide three with my jacket, and you smuggle the rest.”

“That’s right. Remember, he cannot know.”

“And why’s that again?” Christine asked as the white, metallic garage door rose, revealing a dusty-gray interior with a work bench, two bicycles hanging on a rack, and towers of cardboard boxes shoved into the farthest corner – but no other car.

“Becau– oh! He’s not home!” Erik cheered triumphantly as he pulled in. “Nevermind the plan, then. I’ll just carry them up normally.”

“Cool,” Christine said, pulling off her red sunglasses and clipping them on the front of her oversized, white, crew neck shirt. Turning the car off and retracting the key, he shoved it into his pocket and unbuckled his seat belt. Christine placed a hand on his bare forearm, feeling his warmth beneath her cold hand.

“What is it?” he asked.

Christine placed her hands over the smooth, white porcelain that masked his cheeks.

“What’re you doing?” he whispered as she pulled him closer to her. He leaned into her touch, placing his long, nimble fingers over her own.

“Can’t I kiss my boyfriend?” she asked. “Unless you don’t want to–”

“No! No, I do. I want you to.”

She brushed her lips against his chapped ones, pushing up against him. He caressed her cheeks with his warm hands, before wrapping them around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She tangled her fingers in his blond hair, prompting him to quickly break the kiss.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, don’t worry,” he panted, smoothing his hair and collecting himself. “We must head inside, b-before we get...carried away. They can’t stay for too long in a dark car trunk on a hot, torrid day such as this one.”

“Oh, right.”

“But, if you’re, of course, interested...we could always, well, continue this another time, if you want–”

“I’m more than down for that, Erik,” Christine shushed, kissing him on the cheek before unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the car.

Erik was frozen in his place, his fingers delicately ghosting the side of his mask, and then his lips.

“You okay?”

“I am,” he said as he hurriedly stepped out of the car, his long legs making quick strides towards the rear of the car. “I’m sure that I’ll never truly ever get over your kisses.”

“Oh, am I bad or something?”

“No, far from it,” Erik smiled as he unlocked the trunk and lifted it open. “Heaven is made of your kisses.”

“You’re such a poet,” Christine giggled, her cheeks flushing.

“Take the keys, won’t you, dear? I’ll need you to lock the car and open the door.”

Christine nodded, taking the keys from his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing against his.

“Alright, here we go,” Erik said as he heaved up a decently sized cardboard box. After shutting the trunk and locking the car, Christine hurried ahead of him and opened a side door in the garage, holding it open for him. He stepped into the house, followed by her.

“Be careful with them,” Erik said as he handed her the box, which wasn’t as heavy as Christine had thought it would be. He plopped onto the ground and began untying his yellow high top converse. “Do ensure that no dirt gets on the floor. Dad cannot know.”

“Sure, but what does your dad have against your buying plants?” she asked, looking down at the dirty little succulents and the skinny, little stems with drooping leaves, nestled and packed like sardines in the box.

“Because,” Erik started, standing up and gently taking the box from her. She hastily unbuckled her sandals and kicked them off, hanged her denim jacket on the coat rack, and jogged after him.  
“I’ve exceeded my allowance for the month,” he explained, climbing the stairs. “I’m not supposed to adopt anymore for another couple weeks.”

“Then why did you get more?” Christine asked as he opened the door to his bedroom. She entered first, flinging herself onto his cozy bed, before sitting up cross legged.

“I can’t help myself, they’re all just so sweet. They deserve to go to a happy home,” Erik cooed at the box. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to spend a life in a stuffy Home Depot, poor things.”

“Yeah, doesn’t sound fun,” Christine agreed, scanning his room.

Erik’s walls were painted a pale gold, and decorated with playbills, postcards, photographs, and a few large posters, displaying diagrams and illustrations of particular genera of flowers and fungi. One white poster in particular, which was situated above his dresser, simply stated ‘Plant Dad’ in bold, black text, overlaying a green illustration of a ficus leaf. A couple of flower baskets hung from the ceiling. Some potted plants were placed in the window, others on his desk and bookshelf. He had one larger fig plant, which stood proudly in the corner next to his flute stand. Golden sunlight filtered through the window panes, casting light onto the green leaves.

“Did you buy more plants since the last time I’ve been here?” Christine asked.

“You noticed?”

“Yeah. Isn’t it getting a bit too cluttered for you?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, stepping into an adjacent bathroom with a watering can and a small glass plant sprayer. The stream of running, faucet water echoed from the white-linoleum enclave. “Many plants live here, but there is plenty of space for us all to breathe, move, and enjoy each other’s company.”

“Plants move?” Christine asked as Erik returned.

“Oh, yes! Plants do move. They move and they feel.” He began meandering around the room, watering the bigger plants and spraying the smaller, more delicate ones. “They thrive under love and care, just like any other animal or human.”

“You’re so sweet to them.”

“There is much to be sweet about, dear. Look.” He pulled a pale gold pot from the bookshelf and held it out to her, revealing the little green succulent inside. “Isn’t it so adorable?”

“It’s very cute,” she giggled. “I like the pot.”

“Thank you. I painted it myself. I potted all of these myself,” he said, gesturing around the room.

“It sounds like a lot of work.”

“It’s very fulfilling.” He kneeled down to the box and picked up a wilting, little fern. “You see this little fellow? It was all alone in that Home Depot, with no tender loving care. But now it has a home, and I’ll take good care of and nurture it. Before you know it, it’ll be the proudest, most greenest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“I was gonna ask why you were buying all the wilted ones. It doesn’t seem like you’d get a lot of bang for your buck that way.”

“Oh, but I do,” Erik corrected, stepping over to his closet and dragging out a big box. He began pulling out multi-colored pots, counting each one.

“How many of those do you have?”

“I buy pots almost as compulsively as I adopt plants; you never know when you need one .”

“How much time do you spend painting them?”

“Not much,” Erik said as he brought the pots over to the box, sitting down next to it. “Just enough so that each little plant will have a nice, special little corner of the world. Now, back to the question regarding the profit margin of adopting dying plants.”

“Yeah, I’m curious.”

“Well,” he mused, picking up one little succulent from the box and scanning over the pots lined out before him. “I think this little friend is a baby blue. What do you think?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Now anyway, some people will say that adopting wilting plants is a waste of money, because they’re going to die anyway. I disagree. If you know what you’re doing, and have love in your heart, you can save them. Almost all the plants in my room were wilted when I first took them home. Take that orchid over there, for example. The poor thing was at death’s door, now look. It’s as right as rain. As I’ve said before, and I will say again, plants thrive under loving guidance, tender care, and a gentle hand. They’re a lot like children in that regard, I suppose. I even call them my ‘plant babies.’ Do you find that apt?”

“Yes!” she smiled.

“Apt to what?”

“Apt,” Christine started, meeting Erik’s expectant, yet playful gaze with her own. “To your beliefs!”

“Exactly so.”

“When you put it like that, it makes sense,” she said as she watched Erik bustle about, tenderly placing each potted plant in strategic locations, and watering them. “It’s sad that stores throw them away, before they even get a second chance.”

Erik nodded solemnly.

“But it’s a good thing there are plant parents like you in the world to give that to ‘em,” Christine reassured as she stood, bounding over to and drawing him into a tight hug.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, his porcelain mask chilling her skin. She rested the side of her head against his chest, listening to and feeling his loud, racing heart beat.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” she whispered.

“You’re even more so,” he responded, running a hand through her silky blonde hair.

“I’m wondering though,” Christine pondered, pulling away to meet his eyes, but still keeping her arms around him. “What’re you gonna do once we graduate? You can’t possibly fit all your little babies in one dorm.”

“It’s a very painful truth. I’ve been planning, though. I’ll most likely end up taking the orchids and other high-maintenance plants with me. Dad can look after the rest.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“You and I will take care of those ones at college.”

Christine smiled.

“I’m so happy we’re gonna be able to room together,” she said, hugging him even tighter.

“Me too, my dear.”

“I love you, Erik.”

“I–I love you, too.”

“I’m so lucky to have a sweet, smart, caring plant dad for a boyfriend,” she praised, kissing the porcelain cheek of his mask.

“Oh, Christine...I–I–you...I love–”

She deftly pulled him in and pressed her lips against his. He pulled her up against him, grasping at the back of her shirt. She placed her hands on his cheeks before wrapping them around the back of his neck, curling her fingers in his short, blond hair. She felt him smile in the kiss.

“I love you, “ Erik gasped shakily, pulling away only slightly, his lips still hovering over hers. “I love you more than anything.”

“Even over your plant babies?”

“Well,” he started, glancing back and looking around the room. “They’re a close second.”

“Aw, Erik!”

They shared a brief kiss, smiling gently at each other as they pulled away.

“I’m getting kinda hungry, let’s get something to eat,” Christine suggested. “Are you?”

“I could go for some food.”

“Wanna go get takeout and come back? Would your dad mind?”

“Only if we don’t get him anything. What’re you in the mood for?”

“Hm...what about Thai?”

“Thai sounds perfect.”


End file.
